TITLE: To See A Fine Lady, 1-7/15 
AUTHOR: Kristin Johnson
SERIES: MU/Next Generation 
CODES: Intendant/Picard, Picard/MU Garak, Picard/MU Bashir, 
MU Bashir/MU Garak
RATING: NC17 

Summary: The Intendant intends to teach proper Picard a 
lesson.  But can Jean-Luc's famous charm soothe the 
Intendant?  

NOTES:  This falls after "Crossover" but before "Through
the Looking Glass" in MU timeline.  In Next Gen, not sure,
probably after "Generations."

Everything except for original stuff like the Ellendi
belongs to Viacom.  If I wanted to try to make money off
these characters, I'd make action figures.

Special Thanks: To Saklani, for daring me to try this.

*   *   *

ONE: Slave

"Ride a cock horse to Banbury cross To see a fine lady
upon a white horse Rings on her fingers and bells on her
toes She shall have music wherever she goes."

The inanity of the old nursery rhyme, repeating in his
head, irritated Captain Jean-Luc Picard.  Perhaps it was
just a reaction to being chained and hung from the ceiling
in the small cell that smelled of despair, feces and sweat.
His chest was naked.  His legs still felt warm in the
tattered remnants of his uniform trousers. His captors
apparently hadn't thought there was enough left of them to
bother stripping him.  The filth on the rags crept into the
entry wounds where shuttle shrapnel had penetrated.

When his shuttle had passed through the Bajoran wormhole
on the way back from a meeting so momentous he didn't know
what to think, he hadn't expected his shuttle to nearly
disintegrate around him.  His sensors only registered a
Bajoran fighter and a Galor-class warship before oblivion
became not only visible around him, but a tangible
sensation in every part of his body.

The next thing he knew, he was hallucinating, believing he
was back in the cold room with Gul Madred.  The cold clutch
of the shackles felt mockingly familiar.

"There are four lights," he'd muttered, only to be slapped
tauntingly by the Bajoran facing him.  The Bajoran
resembled someone he had seen on Bajor once during a
diplomatic reception...Winn, yes.  Kai Winn. But she wore
no Kai's robe and consulted no orb.  There was no serenity
in her eyes.

"There are no lights for you, Terran." With a contemptuous
laugh, she directed the Cardassian next to her as he
tightened the clamps around Jean-Luc's wrists.

Jean-Luc had never seen Cardassians and Bajorans get along
so well as these two.  Nor had he ever known a Bajoran
willing to employ Cardassian torture methods.

He tried to keep the composure he was known for as he
struggled to understand.  Perhaps Winn was far more
sinister than she appeared. Perhaps this was some sort of
power play...but why choose him?

But somehow, he knew there was another explanation.

He'd heard rumors...read reports...of another universe...a
universe once visited by James Kirk and his officers, and a
universe revisited by two officers from Deep Space Nine. 
As appalling as the possibility was, he knew no other
universe that could possibly make Bajorans and Cardassians
work together...including his own, although the late Vedek
Bareil had orchestrated a remarkable peace treaty.

Here, no treaty was needed.  The Cardassians and Bajorans
were united in their loathing for humans.

He thanked Dieu that Madred was not here.  No French
lullaby, the kind he had sung to comfort himself while
shackled in Madred's inner sanctum, could help him if this
universe's Madred were given the task of torturing him.

No French lullaby.  All he had was that nursery rhyme that
repeated itself incessantly, without reason, in his head. 
Data had been asking him about nursery rhymes and riddles,
and that particular poetry had stuck in his mind.  It was
diverting his attention from a cool, strategic appraisal of
the situation.  But he was a disciplined officer, and his
mind soon obeyed his will.  

Winn was gone.  The Cardassian with her was gone.  He must
act now, and be prepared to overpower his captors.  When he
tried to break the shackles against the ceiling, he slit
one of his wrists and the blood burned as if he'd thrust it
into a Thirellian fire-ant colony.

He cried out, and turned his scream into the song:

"To see a fine lady upon a white horse Rings on her
fingers and bells on her toes..."

He stopped as the door smugly clicked shut.

"Oh, don't stop."

The woman was Bajoran, and quite beautiful.  He recognized
her face from Federation briefings and newscasts about
events on Deep Space Nine.

The marvelous camellia-white skin and feral brown eyes
looked very different on this woman than they did on the
former Bajoran freedom fighter Kira Nerys.  The glossy,
flamboyant red leather of her jacket and tunic was
deceptively innocent, until he spotted the knife and phaser
tucked in her belt.  Her legs were slim, fit and muscled in
tight black leggings.  She wore some sort of diadem or
circlet in her crimson hair.  Her mouth twisted in a pouty
grin, but he saw cruelty tucked inside the curve.

"I've never heard that song." She ran her hand down his
naked chest. "You have a lovely voice.  I haven't heard
many Terran songs."

Jean-Luc kept silent.  He allowed himself to look directly
at her.

"You are a bold one." She smiled. "You also have more
intelligence than most.  You're from the other side, aren't
you?"

He still didn't answer.  

"I could force it out of you," she cooed. "I'd hate to do
that.  We don't have many with lovely singing voices."

"He sang quite beautifully when Damar and Winn had him."
The next voice belonged to a male Cardassian, also somehow
familiar and radiating the obsequiousness of the man behind
the throne. "Such screams...perhaps he wore out his tongue."

"He'd better be unharmed," the Bajoran woman said,
delicately. "I have uses for his tongue."

"I'm sure that you do, Intendant." The Cardassian smirked.

Intendant.  Yes, that had been in the report from Sisko's
officers. Intendant Kira Nerys.

She circled his chest with her fingers. "Winn does
beautiful work. He seems properly subdued." She smiled in
anticipation. "That will change. Have him brought to my
quarters--and do something about his clothes.  He has such
beautiful legs."

Picard thought of trying to escape as the Cardassian
unfastened the shackles.  The Intendant was gone.  Surely
he could overpower even this sly, solidly muscled
Cardassian.

"Another one for the Intendant, First Officer Garak?"

The voice made him freeze inside.  Madred peered at him
behind Garak's shoulder.  For one of the rare moments times
in his career, Jean-Luc Picard felt trapped by sheer terror.

Garak firmly escorted Jean-Luc away from Madred's gaze.
"Yes.  And from the other side, so it seems.  He won't find
escape so easy as the Intendant's twin and that doctor did.
I assume you know them, Terran?"

Jean-Luc Picard muttered the lullaby as he was cleaned,
dressed, and taken to the Intendant.

*   *   *

TWO: Intendant

Kira Nerys didn't notice the plush quarters, or the
willing and beautiful bodyservants waiting in the recesses,
behind the filmy curtains that surrounded her couch.  She
idly sipped sweet Bajoran spring wine and ignored the
Terran-made delicacies sitting on the low inlaid table
before her.

Her attention was entirely on the bald, very pale and
entirely intriguing Terran standing before her.  

She had already decided, quickly, that this was not a man
to work in the ore processing facility.  So, he wore a rich
green embroidered tunic and trousers that came to mid-thigh.

He was from the other side, she knew.  She saw the
intelligence, the courage, the independence in his eyes. 
Of course, she had seen the same in her Sisko's eyes.  She
scowled inwardly.  

How could he have left her?  All she'd ever wanted was his
loyalty. She actually believed she had it.  That was why
she'd given him a ship, and allowed him freedom of
movement.  He was also useful for keeping the other Terrans
in line.

He'd left.  She knew she had been too permissive.  She had
believed being reasonable would win Sisko's devotion.  In
time, perhaps she could be lenient to the other Terrans.

She would not risk that again.  And she would not let this
man before her leave.  Already, her twin and the doctor had
done irreparable harm.  They'd killed Odo.

In return, this man would be hers until he died. A life
for a life.

She had no idea how he'd come, but Garak and Professor
Sisko--Ben's cold ex-wife--would find the secret of these
incursions.  Then, the other universe would be open to the
Alliance.  This man had come in one of the Starfleet
shuttles, so he must be an officer. 

She grinned at the man, drained her wine, and placed the
glass on the table.  A servant quickly materialized with
the bottle.  

"Give it to him," Nerys said, looking flirtatiously at
Picard. "He looks thirsty."

The servant obeyed, and withdrew.  The strange Terran
hesitated before accepting the bottle.  Nerys saw his
uncertainty.  Excellent. She gestured at her glass.

"Serve me first," she said softly. 

He hated the directive.  She saw his eyes.  But he was
graceful as he poured the wine.  She gave him points for
obeying quickly, particularly since she sensed he wasn't
used to following orders. Not from a Bajoran, anyway.  

She patted the couch next to her.  He moved to take the
glass as he seated himself at the opposite end.  She was
pleased with his show of initiative.  He elegantly
presented her with the glass.  She drank slowly, savoring
the wine more than the last glass.  Then, she moved closer
to him and placed the glass to his lips.  Such full, lovely
lips.

He drank slowly, reservedly.  He must be thirsty, but he
didn't want to show it.  She smiled into his eyes as she
drank from the other edge of the glass.

"Delicious," she said softly. "And so are you."

Now, he flinched.  He didn't move, but she saw the affront
in his eyes.  There was a propriety in those eyes, too. 
This man was far too reserved.

She liked a challenge.  She dipped her fingers in the wine
and slowly caressed his mouth.

He didn't move.  Those eyes spoke for him.

"You can talk, you know," she said, letting her fingers
slip inside his mouth lightly.  Soft.  Such strong teeth
and a determined jaw. Her exploration made him nervous, she
could tell by his breathing.

"Oh, silly me," she murmured. "I haven't let you say one
word, have I?"

When her fingers were gone, he still didn't speak.  Nerys
wasn't worried.

"I don't even know your name." She caressed his head.  So
smooth...so sexy. "You can tell me.  I'm not going to hurt
you...unless I have to."

That didn't even provoke a response.

"I can see I'm going to have to give you a name." She
studied him curiously. "Those eyes of yours remind me of
the deer in the mountains of Dahkur—wild, aloof…but with
time and petting, they become tame enough to sleep by your
side.  We call them avan.  From now on, your name is Avan."

"I'm Jean-Luc."

His voice could soar to the heavens.  It was quiet,
commanding, deep and defiant.  There was no question.  He
was from the other side, and he was some sort of leader
there.  She had no doubt.  He was like no other man she'd
met.  Even her twin's beautiful doctor friend was not like
this man.

But eventually, all men bowed to her.  The more commanding
they were, the more deeply they bowed.  Just look at Garak.

"Are you from the other side?"

"Do you think I am?"

"I know you are.  No one here would answer me that way."
She tilted her head. "What are you there?"

"I'm an explorer.  An archaeologist.  A wanderer."

She suppressed her laughter at the way he thought he could
deceive her.  He would tell her everything before long, and
he would look at her in adoration, and he would want to
serve her with all of him.  He would help her bring order
to the Alliance, and the other universe.

"Jean-Luc." She twisted her mouth in her pouty grin. "I
prefer Avan for you.  So Avan you are from now on...unless
you're ready to tell me more?  No?  I thought not." 

She slid her hands under his tunic and pressed her lips
against his ear. "Your name is Avan...and...you're...mine."

*   *   *

THREE: Avan

Jean-Luc had difficulty remembering the next morning as he
woke up smothered in thick blankets.  For an absurd moment,
he actually thought he was someone named Avan...and that he
belonged here.

Except that "Ride a cock horse" still taunted his brain,
and he felt the beating of the artificial heart in his
chest that proclaimed him Jean-Luc Picard.

The ache of his chest and the laxness of his limbs also
belonged to him.  It also belonged to the Intendant, who
left only the impression of her sinuous body in the bed,
and on his body as well.

Jean-Luc winced as he fought his way out of the luxurious
trappings--absurd, really, a grown man wrapped in blankets
like a doll.  A grown man, dandled on the Intendant's knee
and fed sweets.  A mature man, choking on his pleasure and
his pride as the Intendant kissed his skin, and let him
feel the warmth of hers.

And she'd left him, alone in this bed, making the point
that he now belonged to her and had no control over his
destiny.  

Meanwhile, the other human slaves quietly cleaned her
quarters this morning.  They didn't look at him.

The sooner he escaped this universe, the better.

He considered going naked when he saw an opalescent,
opaque, but still too damn revealing, bodysuit laid out for
him.  The woman made Lwaxana Troi look like a dowdy
spinster.

"Intendant?"

That was Garak's voice.  Jean-Luc dressed quickly.  If he
couldn't have dignity in his clothes, he would have dignity
in his bearing. He emerged from the bed and cautiously
moved past the gauzy curtains the Intendant favored.

Garak appeared surprised to see him. "Well, human, I
thought you would still be in bed after the smile on the
Intendant's face this morning.  You must be exhausted."

Jean-Luc had the opportunity to study him closely.  He
knew the name was familiar, and now he recognized the
man...a tailor on Deep Space Nine.  There were rumors about
his involvement with the mysterious Obsidian Order...

Those blue eyes reminded Jean-Luc of the murky, eerie blue
light in Madred's quarters, and he felt, absurdly, that
Madred and the other Garak were linked...perhaps that was
just because he'd seen this Garak with this universe's
Madred.

"Nothing to say?" Garak smiled knowingly. "The sign of an
intelligent Terran.  So much the better.  The Intendant
loves a challenge."

"What do you want with me?"

Garak raised his eyeridges at the authority Jean-Luc
couldn't mask. "I don't like your tone, Terran.  Whoever
you are on the other side, you're now just the latest
fashion for the Intendant." He circled Jean-Luc, appraising
him. "On the other hand, if you were someone, we might be
able to expand our horizons...or at least, prevent your
universe from invading ours."

"I'm no one.  I belong to the Intendant."

The words were only a defense mechanism, but in saying
them, he felt part of his soul shrivel.  Garak's expression
only confirmed his sense of defeat.

"I have no doubt that you will bring her much pleasure."
Garak was exceptionally solicitous. "I came simply to
welcome you to your new life, Terran.  Ordinarily, I might
take on the job of training you to serve your mistress, as
we all do with our lives.  But it seems she has you well in
hand already.  Good day."

Garak only paused at the door to nonchalantly say, "Please
tell your mistress that I invite her to dine tomorrow
evening.  Of course, you will accompany her.  She hates to
be separated from her pets."

Jean-Luc, left alone, ate the remaining food from the last
night, not out of hunger, but out of a desperate
determination.  He needed to think.  He needed a clear
mind.  Last night's intimacy had left him with barely
enough energy to pull the blankets around him as he
shivered.

He would find an escape.  If Intendant Kira Nerys was
pleased with him, if she indulged him...and if he indulged
her in everything...he might escape.  More importantly, he
would bring intelligence on this universe to Starfleet
Command.  When he got out, he would go to Deep Space Nine
and consult with Dr. Bashir and Major Kira.

Once, he had faced being a woman's plaything when the con-
artist Ardra had tried to make him part of her inheritance
of Ventax II. She would no doubt delight in the irony of
the situation--he was now willing to wait on the
Intendant's pleasure.  

If he were honest with himself, he needed to acknowledge
that he had cried out and shuddered as she sensuously toyed
with him before insisting on her own fulfillment...and the
more aggressive she became, his own darker urges overtook
him even as the feeling consumed his body.

He had to acknowledge it, or he would be enslaved.  He had
to know what he was fighting.  

It was loneliness, the need to be touched.  It was the
baseness of the flesh that everyone was heir to.  And it
could be subdued by his will.  

It would be so.

Jean-Luc wished for his usual breakfast with Beverly, even
as the moba fruit left an indelible sweetness on his tongue.

*   *   *

FOUR: Jean-Luc

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

Nerys clenched her fist in victory as Garak confirmed that
her Terran had told the truth...and that she had been right
about him.  He was a leader.

His shuttle was damaged, but salvageable.  At the main
console inside the shuttle, Professor Sisko expertly
recovered the data from the partially damaged computer. 
Garak made the report concisely.  He had gotten to the
shuttle long before the Intendant--no surprise, since while
Garak and Jennifer Sisko were working on the shuttle, the
Intendant was fighting the urge to make her human surrender
to her. Completely this time.  She amused herself instead
by watching him as he slept.  He was stiff and proper even
while asleep.  He held his limbs tightly to his body.

"His sensors have recorded a map of his journey.  He was
in his universe's Gamma Quadrant."

"What was his mission?"

Jennifer Sisko spoke reservedly. "I have his log entry
now.  That will answer your question."

So beautiful, Nerys thought, such delectable skin and
eyes, so intelligent...and dead inside.  What a waste.

"Play back," Nerys said crisply.

Instantly, her Avan's marvelous voice echoed in the metal
cavern.

"Personal log, stardate 5444.7.  I have been invited by
the Bajoran government to participate in a meeting between
Bajor and the Ellendi, of the Gamma Quadrant.  

The Enterprise must attend to an emergency evacuation of
Darras Four, but will be awaiting me at Deep Space Nine
when I return.

Ordinarily, the duty of attending this meeting would fall
to Commander Benjamin Sisko.  However, the meeting was
occasioned by the discovery of an Ellendi artifact that
seems to have significance in Bajoran, Ellendi and several
other cultures, including Vulcan and Betazoid.  The
artifact is now the source of a possible dispute, as the
Ellendi fear that somehow these developments will anger the
Dominion, and thus they are resisting efforts to examine
what may be a significant find.  Starfleet has sent me on
account of my credentials as a mediator and an
archaeologist.  Commander Sisko is well-versed in Bajoran
legend, but admits archaeology is not his field.  However,
the Defiant will be present, since we can benefit from
Commander Sisko's past experience with the Dominion.

"Commander Sisko's senior staff have noted that this
artifact may be a ploy by the Dominion, whose capabilities
and motives we do not yet know.

"Fortunately, the Ellendi and the Bajorans have agreed
that part of this meeting will take place on Deep Space
Nine.  That may allow us to defend against a possible
attack.  Representatives from Starfleet, Bajor, Vulcan and
Betazed will be present.

"While I remain wary of this meeting and of the
ramifications, I also welcome the opportunity to make a
significant scientific contribution, and to study a culture
few have encountered.  It is a rare thing to immerse myself
in archaeology.  Since the discovery of the Preservers'
message, my interest has grown stronger.  After Robert and
Henri perished, and after the destruction of the
Enterprise, I had little interest in my private passions. 
But one cannot delay them indefinitely.  I will not allow
my enthusiasm to overshadow my primary concerns in this
matter..."

Nerys signaled for Jennifer to end the playback.  While
her cunning mind analyzed the tactical and practical
advantages of the information, she savored the sound of
Jean-Luc in his full commanding persona.  He was important.
He was brilliant.  He could be useful to her.

But he had a tendency towards arrogance, and pomposity. 
She would play to that if she had to, but she would also
take him down a peg.  

The best way to do that was to turn this reserved,
pleasure-resistant officer into a pampered sensualist, and
still retain enough of the dutiful officer to help her
accomplish her aims.

First, though, she would simply have fun with him.  Poor
Jean-Luc. It sounded as if he had little enjoyment on the
other side.  He permitted himself scholarly pursuits, but
little else.

That would change.  But first...business.

Nerys rested a hand on Jennifer's arm.  The body beneath
the stylish but demure clothes was surprisingly warm.

"Find out how he came here, and create a way for us to
duplicate it at our will."

"Should I complete this after the trans-spectral sensor
array?"

Nerys didn't miss a beat.  She wanted both. "You can
handle them both at once.  You're a clever woman." She made
her exit, calling out gaily, "I think I'll have to have
another talk with Captain Jean-Luc Picard.  I'll be in my
quarters, and I don't want to be disturbed!"

*   *   *

FIVE: Proposition

When the Intendant entered, Jean-Luc was pretending to
study an ancient Bajoran text.  He would have liked to read
a more recent history of Bajor, but the Intendant
apparently kept all of her books and PADDs locked away.  

The computer failed to respond to his commands, nor did he
know the necessary decryption protocols to access the
information.  And it had prompted him for the Intendant's
security clearance more than once.

So now, he sat patiently, trying to appear relaxed.  He
looked up as she entered, laid aside his book, and knelt by
the couch.

She beamed approvingly. "You learn quickly.  And you
obviously missed me."

She gave him no chance to think, but pulled him to his
feet--she was fit and athletic and strong.  Her kiss was
not wholly unexpected.

Her bite, however, was.  She laughed and sensuously licked
the blood from his lip.  He remained quiet.

"To think of you being alone when you woke up," she
whispered. "Wondering why I'd left.  I had business.  And
you're an intelligent man.  You would find some way to
amuse yourself."

She glanced at the ancient text beside him. "You are a man
of many interests."

"I'm an archaeologist," Jean-Luc said. "I'm interested in
old things."

She coyly glanced at him. "I hope that wasn't a hint that
I look old."

"I would never say such a thing."

"Yes, I know.  So proper, so careful not to offend...but I
know what you're really thinking." She picked up the book
and idly scanned it as she put it back. "Imagine.  To think
our people once wanted to wait for an Emissary to bring
peace to our planet.  We have all the peace we need.  We
have power."

She turned, and saw Jean-Luc, silent again.  Her face
hardened, but looked beautiful, and betrayed.

"I can only imagine what they've been telling you." Her
voice was weary, resigned. "Kira...Bashir...they didn't
understand.  Even Kira.  She wanted a strong Bajor.  I've
got it.  She'll tell you I am cruel to the Terrans.  The
way I see it, there's little difference in her arrangement.
The Terrans help guard her world, just as the Alliance
guards Bajor.  And Bajor is more than ready to help the
Alliance bring order to this universe.

"I've tried to make the Cardassians and the Klingons
understand.  The Terrans are in our care.  They had their
chance to rule with us.  But they're simply too peaceful
and trusting to be left on their own. Until, that is, they
start attacking us out of misguided hatred."

She gestured for him to pour her a glass of spring wine. 
Although it was early, Jean-Luc didn't disobey.  She
accepted it with a watchful look.

"I want the Terrans to be treated well.  I think of their
welfare. They can accept their fate and be happy.  But when
they protest, when they refuse to work, when they behave
like animals, they undermine my efforts.  The Klingons and
Cardassians want to exterminate them.  I have to discipline
them for their own good.  To save them.  But I try to be
lenient.  And they repay me by hating me."

Jean-Luc remained still, horrified and fascinated at her
arguments, her justifications.  He was hearing the same
rhetoric the Cardassians had used to justify forcing the
Bajorans to help deprive their world of its natural
resources, and destroy its rich culture.

She came to him and took his face in her hands.  Her eyes
would not let his alone.  In her own way, she seemed
sincere, and despite himself, he felt strangely compelled
by her logic.

"You have to believe me," she said huskily. "I am a friend
to the Terrans.  Why else would I keep you instead of
sending you to labor processing ore?"

Why else, indeed.

The Intendant looked at him for a long moment, assessing
his silence.  Then, she sighed and made a gesture.  A
Cardassian and a Bajoran guard came and took him from her
grasp.

"I think it's time I showed you the reality of life here."
Her voice was gentle, but her eyes showed a fire and drive
that made him afraid for his soul.

"Mr. Garak asked me to convey his wish that you dine with
him." Jean-Luc wondered if she would punish him for
withholding that. "He has generously permitted me to
accompany you."

She didn't seem bothered. "I know." She caressed his head
with a lover's touch, but one meant to assert her control.
"He knows I could never, ever leave you pining for me. 
We'll be back in plenty of time."

"If I may, where are we going?"

The Intendant's smile was as full of glee as a child's,
and held the mystery of the seductress.

"It's a surprise, Avan.  So behave yourself, and enjoy
yourself.  I certainly intend to." 

She nodded at the guards, who once again marched him
along, this time into the unknown.

Well, he was not an explorer for nothing.  Jean-Luc
steeled himself, and tried to forget that he had always
disliked surprises.

*   *   *

SIX: Terrans

Under a spreading phosphorus sky, Terrans, and some
Vulcans, with guarded eyes went about placing great stone
blocks together to form...houses?  Barracks?  Storehouses?

Perhaps pyramids, Jean-Luc thought, as the Intendant
guided him through the crowd.  The Terrans did not look at
him.  They did not need to.

Despite his translucent bodysuit, covered by--grace a Dieu-
-a long pearl-colored jacket, he was a slave too.

There was a market of sorts, where Cardassians, Bajorans,
and Klingons made deals with Orions, Tholians, Skorr, Gorn,
and...yes, Ellendi.

The Intendant squealed in delight as she spied one of the
Cardassian stalls. "Oh, that would look beautiful with your
eyes."

Jean-Luc kept pace with her, and winced at the large
obsidian and jevonite necklace she paid for on the spot. 
It resembled an elaborate choker.  A collar, really.  There
was no way to avoid it as she fastened it around his neck.

It was exquisitely carved, a classic example of Cardassian
artistry from the Hebitian period.  She did have taste. 
That was all he would concede now.

"We must bring Garak some Delavian chocolates," the
Intendant decided.  "He is my second-in-command, and
loyal...so far.  We'll keep some for ourselves, of course."

The shopkeeper selling the chocolates was a Terran Picard
didn't recognize.  He smiled as much as possible.

"You're looking handsome today, Mr. Kim," the Intendant
said sweetly. "But then...you always do."

"You're too kind." The golden-skinned, attractive Asian
winked and smiled appreciatively. "How about a free sample
for you and your...friend?"

"Now, Harry, if you keep that up, I'll grow fat, and then
I won't be able to fit into my gowns."

Harry Kim appreciated her flirtatious ways.  After she'd
bought the box for Garak, he slipped her another box and
refused payment.

"Enjoy," he said brightly.

The Intendant patted the box as they walked away. "You
see, Avan? Not all humans think of us as enemies."

Jean-Luc glanced around for their escort, and noticed
something he couldn't identify...no more than a fleeting
glimpse...but his soldier's instincts did not lie.

"Where is our escort?" he asked quietly. "You cannot be
careless with your own safety."

The Intendant laughed and caressed her boot.  

"I didn't mean to suggest you can't handle yourself."

She stopped and kissed him on the forehead. "I know. 
You're concerned for me.  It's sweet."

Ahead, a Cardassian had a Terran by the arm.  The Terran
had apparently been sweeping the street, and continued to
do so as the Cardassian twisted her arm behind her back. 
Her face showed pain. This universe's version was not
stubborn and gruff, but frightened and defeated.

Jean-Luc pulled in a breath as he recognized Kate Pulaski.

As he turned to speak to the Intendant, someone jostled
him, separating him from her. 

Two seconds later, phaser fire narrowly missed him.  But
he was more concerned with the Klingon dagger pressed to
his throat.

He didn't see the Intendant, but he heard her knife being
drawn.

"I thought we'd meet again, tinkerer." Her voice was
sweet, and cold.

Miles O'Brien spoke near Picard's ear. "I want every
Bajoran, Klingon and Cardie bastard off this planet."

Picard had been in hostage situations before.  He had even
been menaced, in a fashion, by an alien-possessed Miles
O'Brien, although an alien-possessed Data had actually
threatened his life.

He recovered from the shock of encountering this
universe's O'Brien, so stealthy and just the opposite of
the honest Irishman in his universe.  He tried to think
rationally even as that damned nursery rhyme echoed
inanely.  Some sort of peculiar response to stress.

The Intendant could not be foolish enough to accede just
because she fancied him, just because he was hers.  He had
the impression her affections were fickle.

When she spoke again, there was a fury he couldn't
mistake.  It sounded deeply personal.

"First you betray us, now you're willing to kill him. 
You'll stoop to anything, won't you?"

Even with a dagger at his throat, Jean-Luc could not
disagree with O'Brien as he said, "I don't see any of them
leaving."

"And they won't." The Intendant shoved aside O'Brien's
accomplices who had separated Jean-Luc from her. "Do you
think I'm so fond of him that I'd just surrender to you? 
That I'd forget what you've done? Forget my
responsibilities?  No.  If you want to kill him, kill him."

Jean-Luc was surprised to feel something akin to hurt or
betrayal. That was impossible.  Stress, once again.  A
response to the absurdity of the situation.

"You're bluffing," O'Brien said.

"She never bluffs," a Ferengi voice said. "If you do it,
they'll kill us."

"Then we'll take him," O'Brien said defiantly.

"Go ahead." The Intendant remained coldly beautiful, in
command.

Jean-Luc breathed as O'Brien lowered the dagger and
released him.  He felt warmth at his neck and knew he was
bleeding.  

Two Bajorans surrounded him in a huddle and acted as a
shield. Phaser fire screamed outside, and he had no doubt
it was meant for him as well as the Bajorans.

He didn't hear any disintegration of flesh, only the
Intendant shouting, "Find them!"  But he had no chance to
learn what was happening, because he was taken back to the
ship.

Somehow, he doubted the Intendant had had this outcome in
mind.  It didn't help her case.

Or had she?

He had plenty of time to ponder the depth of his ignorance
as the ship returned him safely to Terok Nor.

*   *   *

SEVEN: Pampering

The sight of her Avan soaking in sensuous milk from hip to
chest made Nerys relax.  In one way, the appalling incident
had done some good. It gave her an excuse to cosset him. 
She smiled at the way he dutifully scrubbed at his skin
with a moist sponge.

The incident also had some side benefits.  Her soldiers
informed her after the ship left the Alliance colony that
three of the rebels who had staged the attack were now in
custody.

One of her prizes would certainly please Garak.  He'd
wanted his hands on the dark beauty Bashir for months.  And
Nerys would let Garak have the Vulcan, Tuvok, and the
Terran female, whose name she didn't know, as well.

On second thought, she'd take the Vulcan.  She'd always
wanted one as a guard.  Her Avan needed protection.

But right now, he needed her.

She took the sponge from him, soaked it thoroughly in
milk, and slowly rubbed his thigh and stomach.  

"I'm sorry," she said, watching the way the milk made his
skin paler and silkier.  His body was hard, disciplined,
athletic. "I didn't know what they were planning.  Of
course, I was on guard.  I have to be." She shook her head.
"I'd hoped to show you that they were well-treated..."

"The guard caused a woman pain, unnecessarily, and still
made her work."

He was not an easy one.  Nerys became even more contrite.
"Some abuse their authority.  I don't.  None of the other
Terrans were ill-fed, or beaten.  That's one of our better
colonies.  But the rebels insist on creating discord."

"It must be very difficult for you." 

He tactfully moved her hand aside where it would have gone
to explore his maleness, to caress his buttocks.  She took
the hint and washed his arms.  He looked even more
reserved.  Was that disappointment?

"Difficult.  Yes.  The Terrans misunderstand me."

"That was apparent.  They actually thought they could get
to you through me."

She coyly caressed his ear.  The suppressed pain in his
voice was wonderful to hear. "I'm sorry I had to endanger
you."

"I've had to make similar decisions." He closed his eyes
as she gently sponged his face. "It's never easy, choosing
to sacrifice someone.  But sometimes we must."

"I couldn't give in." Nerys was more and more fascinated
by him.  He truly seemed to understand. "Not to them.  Not
to O'Brien."

"You have a history."

She comforted herself by sponging his back.  The scent of
milk and natural male filled her head. "He betrayed me.  I
gave him a home, a job fixing things, and he left."

"That must be painful."

She shrugged, smiled, squeezed milk from the sponge into
his mouth. "I'll deal with him.  In the meantime, I have
you, safe. That's all that matters."

Of course, if O'Brien had killed him, she would have
mourned, and killed the rebels she'd captured.  But she
would have accepted the necessity of the sacrifice.

She grinned, knowing that she had triumphed in her gamble.
The rebels would not ever endanger Avan again.  And she
would not let him out of her sight for the next week.

He rose stiffly, stretching with unconscious sensuality. 
He looked at her with a request in his eyes.

"Did you need something?"

"A towel, if you please."

She laughed. "No need for that." She pointed at a low
massage table, where protective coverings had been laid.
"I'll rub you down."

"I thought my duty was to see to your needs."

She loved the formal way he put it, and the slight dryness
of his tone. "And you will.  Now, lie down.  I won't ask
again."

He relaxed more easily than she thought once he spread out
in pale, muscled splendor.  Perhaps this confident, even
arrogant, and reserved captain simply needed the
encouragement to give in to his own needs.

She'd learned massages from her human serving woman, and
she'd learned well.  But until now, she'd never had anyone,
even Ben, that she wanted to practice on.  

She had no idea how long she spent stroking him, weighing
him down, learning his muscles, hearing him as he sighed
out all the tension from his muscles.

His body...oh, Prophets.  She adored his body.  His arms,
so long and muscled, not brutishly.  His back, a smooth
expanse of white skin. His round bottom, one cheek slightly
larger than the other.  The imperfection charmed her.  His
legs, never completely relaxed.  His shoulders, still
tensed like a great cat's.

He rolled over at her command, arranging himself more
easily this time.  He wasted no motion.  He did not fight. 
For the moment, she had him captivated.

She slipped a Delavian chocolate from the box and rubbed
it teasingly on his lips.  His mouth opened, and she had
the pleasure of his tongue caressing her fingers.  He
sighed and opened his mouth again once she was finished.

She withheld a second chocolate, and didn't kiss him as
she longed to do.  Instead, she removed her leggings and
straddled him, resting her femaleness against his chest,
laying her legs between his, and she massaged him even more
deeply.

His face was noble, his nose long but elegant.  His neck
was long, and she made sure to caress it, and those
shoulders, and his chest with their twin spots of dark
color that responded without thought to her touch.  

Now, she wanted to kiss him.

She moved slowly downward, letting him feel the velvet of
her, and sat on her heels between his feet. 

For long moments, she admired the view, spread out before
her like Bajor's sculpted mountains.

She gently sucked, licked and kissed his toes while
massaging his heels, soles, and calves.  He trembled so
badly that she took special delight in feeling his shivers
beneath his skin.

He'd kept his thighs slightly closed, and when she kissed
his knees, she realized why.  He made the first moan she'd
heard from him. Then, he stopped abruptly, holding back the
sound.

She ignored his thighs for the moment and rubbed his
belly.  His stomach muscles felt tight as Nog's purse.

When she kissed and licked his thighs again, he moaned.

"That's it," she whispered, coming very close to his
arousal.  She kissed him, hot and wet, above his groin. 
She kissed his thighs.

His knees locked together.  As if that would stop her.

She took his hint, and withdrew momentarily.  His eyes
opened, dense and brown.  She selected a Delavian chocolate
and rubbed it from his lips to his groin, not stopping
until there was a trail of brown down his middle, like a
wound.

The chocolate tasted exquisite mixed with the salt of him.
Oh...she had been right about this one.

He murmured something in a language she didn't know, but
it sounded hoarse and passionate.  She could recognize
surrender in any tongue.

When she at last kissed him, full on the lips, his arms
came around her, and she lost all sense of herself, of
time, of place...

With effort, she regained control.  This was the way it
had felt with Ben.  She would not risk that again.  

She moved down slowly, poising her mouth over him. 

"Who are you?"

The question seemed to startle him.  With difficulty, he
responded. "Avan."

"I hope so," she murmured.  "Because if you lie to me,
I'll know. Who are you?"

"Avan."

"Not Jean-Luc?"

Now he hesitated.  She relaxed, once again in control.

"I'm Avan."

"You told me Jean-Luc." She gently kissed his lips. "Are
you ready to tell me now?  Who are you?"

He didn't answer.  Nerys sighed.  If he would make this
easier...but he was stubborn, like most men, and very much
convinced he was in control.

Slowly, luxuriously, with insides already full and wet,
she lowered herself onto him, filling herself.

"Who are you?"

He made a choking sound, then became silent.  His eyes
spoke for him.

Nerys decided he must be taught.  She slowly began to
undulate.

Before, she had been willing to think only of his
pleasure.  But she had ignored her body long enough.  She
had an exquisite plaything, and as difficult as it was for
most to believe, she hadn't enjoyed anyone in months.

The coupling was furious, and she reigned, superior, and
she triumphed in the climax he could not withhold or fake. 
She prolonged her pleasure, staying on top of him until he
became lax under her and within her.

Next time, she would do something about his short fuse. 
She so enjoyed being seated on him like a throne.  His skin
was like nothing she'd ever felt.

He sat up and toweled himself diffidently, looking about
for a robe.

"Tonight I want you naked," she told him. "I like you
naked."

"Very well."

He was reserved again. She narrowed her eyes.

"What shall I do with you now?  I need a while to
recharge, and I think I've given you more pleasure than
you'll ever have wherever you came from."

His soft voice surprised her.

"I could read to you while you eat dinner."

"I'm not in the mood for reading tonight."

"Then...if it pleases you, I could sing."

Nerys wasn't sure why that simple suggestion thrilled her,
perhaps more than massaging him into helplessness.

Before she could answer, the chime sounder and she called
out "Enter."  She glared at Avan, daring him to leave.

A Bajoran entered with the Vulcan Tuvok, attired in a
Bajoran uniform.  He would do.  She knew Vulcans could snap
someone's neck with their hands.

A Terran female carried her dinner, a blond, tall woman.

"Put it on the table, Jessica." Nerys seated herself at
the table. "Jean-Luc, serve me.  Tuvok...that is your name?"

He nodded silently.

"Speak."

"I am Tuvok."

The Intendant smiled and pointed to Jean-Luc. "I need you
to guard my possessions, and to guard me.  You will stay
here and keep safe all that is mine."

"Yes." The Vulcan obediently moved near the door.

The Bajoran retreated with a bow.  Nerys turned and
accepted the wine Jean-Luc poured.  She reclined on the
couch and gestured with a generous sweep of her hand.

"Well?   Shall I have music with dinner?  A Terran song."

She saw Jean-Luc do his best to ignore Tuvok.  He took a
moment, and then decided on a song.  His voice was rich and
deep.

"I have often walked this street before And I've seen
light pour from every door..."

She relaxed and enjoyed her naked singer.  He might not be
willing to admit what he was yet, but some part of her
hoped he wouldn't.  She didn't need to act yet.  And he was
so entertaining.

Food, wine, music and her newest concubine.  This was what
life was made of.

To be continued....